


Till The Sun Comes Back

by VeronicaFerCard



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Nothing explicit, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaFerCard/pseuds/VeronicaFerCard
Summary: Steve is nothing but respectful of Bucky’s boundaries. He is extra careful, whenever he is allowed to linger, to softly run his fingers through Bucky’s hair or hold him close, so that he can pinpoint the exact moment when it becomes too much and he has to back away.He is careful, yes. But he still makes mistakes.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 20
Kudos: 165





	Till The Sun Comes Back

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of cleaning the house during the quarantine. There is absolutely nothing explicit in this story, they don't even say the r-word out loud, but it's still implied so thread it carefully if this is something triggering for you.  
> Tittle from Stu Larsen's Till The Sun Comes Back. It's a beautiful song, which you should absolutely listen to while you read this.

Steve finds Bucky tucked safely against the arm of the sofa, wrapped around a heavy blanket and sitting sideways so he can have access to the full view of the large windows overlooking the starless night sky, mostly obscured by buildings, and, beyond that, the East River and the Brooklyn Bridge, standing tall and familiar. Home. There is no other word for it, no other feeling that encompasses the way Steve’s bones settle in his body when he looks at it. He suspects it brings Bucky the same kind of quiet, and that is why he is not surprised to find him here.

It’s almost three in the morning. Steve woke up to an empty, cold bed, but it didn’t faze him, it didn’t send his heart rate skyrocketing or blocked the air from going into his lungs like it used to, when Bucky came to live with him last year. Now he is left with a subdued kind of worry that lingers at the back of his mind, not imposing, but impossible to dismiss all the same. 

But now Steve has learned to deal with it. He has learned that, as much as Bucky needs help, so does he because they are both messed up. No, Steve corrects himself, as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch, not messed up, no, traumatized, that’s what Sam says. It’s what their shrinks, both Steve’s and Bucky’s, tell them. It’s what Steve has been slowly learning, over the last few months, how to deal with.

And so he knows to give Bucky space now, to sit further apart than he would like so as not to crowd him and overwhelm him with proximity when he is not ready for it. It’s not always easy, especially now that they have started to slowly rekindle the part of their relationship Steve was sure he would never have again. But Steve is nothing but respectful of Bucky’s boundaries. So he is extra careful, whenever he is allowed to linger, to softly run his fingers through Bucky’s hair or hold him close, so that he can pinpoint the exact moment when it becomes too much and he has to back away.

He is careful, yes. But he still makes mistakes. 

Like tonight, a few hours before they went to bed, when Steve got carried away while they watched a movie and Bucky had laid his head on Steve’s shoulder with Steve’s arm wrapped around him. They had been comfortable, neither really paying attention to the television, more engrossed in the warmth they’d been sharing instead. So Steve had leaned down, planted a kiss on the top of Bucky’s head, to which he got a positive response in way of a content hum as Bucky snuggled closer. Then Bucky turned his face upwards to look at him with big gray-blue eyes full of love and trust and, the next thing he knew, Steve’s mouth was on his and Bucky went rigid, completely petrified against him.

Steve had pulled away immediately, going as far as standing up to put more space between them, but the damage had already been done. He apologized, over and over again, not knowing what else to do as Bucky stared vacantly at the coffee table. 

Eventually, Steve left him alone, it seemed like the best thing to do, the only thing. Bucky wasn’t crying or shaking. He might have been dissociating, but Steve didn’t know enough about it to be able to help, so he went to the kitchen, made some tea the way Bucky liked it and left a steaming cup in front of him, for when he was ready.

It had taken some time, but, by the time Steve was preparing to sleep, Bucky had come to bed. He didn’t snuggle up to Steve, didn’t say anything either, but he laid there, facing Steve with tired eyes.

“Thank you,” he’d said softly, after a moment. “For the tea.”

“Buck… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” Steve had started saying, but Bucky just shook his head and they both fell silent again, simply watching each other until Steve’s eyelids had grown too heavy and he fell asleep.

So, yeah. It wasn’t a surprise when he woke up and found that Bucky wasn’t there.

What  _ does _ surprise him is when Bucky turns around on the sofa now, eyes boring into his and his lips tug upwards a little, small and sad and he says:

“I love you.”

Steve gasps, he can’t help it, his own face breaks into a smile, and then he just stares at Bucky for a while, before shaking himself. This is not the kind of thing you answer non-verbally. 

“I love you, too,” he replies then, heart beating fast in his chest. It is far from the first time they have said it to each other, but  _ God _ , it’s been so long. Steve’s eyes prickle at the sound of it and he has to blink the wetness away. It’s not the time to draw attention to him, not when he has the sense that Bucky has more to say.

He is proven right when Bucky sighs a moment later, looking away for a second before turning back to him as he wets his lips, a nervous tick he has acquired recently.

“I love you,” he repeats. “I love you so much.  _ God _ ,” he shakes his head, “you don’t even know how much.” Steve smiles at him again, a little confused this time as to where this is going, but he stays quiet, waiting for Bucky to sort through his ideas. “I love you,” Bucky says yet again, eyes suspiciously shiny now. 

“But?” Steve prompts, patience never being his strong suit.

“But if you touch me in a, um…” he averts his gaze and Steve just knows that he is wringing his hands under the blanket. Be that as it may, Bucky still manages to force the words out in the end. “In a more… uh, sexual way, I’m gonna freak out, Stevie.”

This time Steve is the one frozen in place.

Not his mind, though. That part of him wanders further than he would have ever liked it to go. His horrified eyes blink at Bucky, silently begging him to deny the terrible images Steve’s mind has conjured up in the wake of what he said. But, to Steve’s complete despair, Bucky gives him a short nod instead.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Whatever you’re thinking… it probably happened.”

“Buck?” Steve begs again. He needs this to  _ not _ be true. Please, not this. Too much has been taken from Bucky already. In the sea of evil that has tried to drown him over the decades, this is like finding out that the waves were also poisoned. 

Steve doesn’t mind the tears now. In fact, they barely register, not compared to the sinking feeling in his stomach or the bitter taste he suddenly has in his mouth.

“I don’t know what to say,” he confesses quietly, feeling useless in a way he is not really used to.

Bucky shakes his head.

“You don’t have to say anything. It happened, Steve,” he says it with a finality that crushes Steve’s chest. “But it’s over, it’s gone and I don’t… I don’t wanna talk about it. Not with you.” Bucky moves so he is staring at the dark screen of the television instead of Steve. “I’ve told the shink,” he offers, and then adds, “some,” almost as an afterthought. “I’ll tell her more when I can, but I can’t do this with you. It’s humiliating enough just knowing that you know.” He shakes his head again, though it looks more like a shudder from where Steve is.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he admits, rubbing his hands over his face as if it could erase this whole night, this whole fucking century. But, of course, it doesn’t work. “You never said you wanted me to, and I just… I took it for granted.  _ Shit _ . I’m so sorry, Buck.” 

Bucky turns back to him then, the blanket falling off his shoulders as he moves. Steve’s fingers instantly itch to wrap it over him again, but he knows better and keeps his hands where they are, resting stiffly one over the other on his lap.

“That’s not… You didn’t do anything wrong,” Bucky tells him. But Steve is having a hard time believing that. “Hey, I’m serious. When you touch me, it’s… it’s never like anything else I’ve ever experienced. It feels good, Steve. It  _ always _ feels good. Sometimes, uh, sometimes it’s just too much to handle, but it’s never not good, okay?”

A little reluctantly, Steve nods. He still feels like shit turned over, actually sick to his stomach that he might have drawn these terrible memories to the forefront of Bucky’s mind, but that has more to do with him than Bucky right now, and he can’t let this be yet another burden for Bucky to carry. Amongst everything else, it’s not fair that he has to feel bad for  _ Steve _ in this situation. 

“Kissing is okay,” Bucky puts him at easy all the same, because he is much better than Steve probably deserves. “Nobody kissed me back then.”  _ Not that I remember _ . He doesn’t say it, but Steve knows they are both thinking it. “You just caught me off guard.” Which is really something, Steve thinks, when you know the kind of training Bucky has had.

“Okay,” Steve agrees, because it feels like Bucky is waiting for him to say something, but his tongue still feels too heavy in his mouth for anything more complex than a couple of syllables. 

“It’s not why I freaked, the kiss,” Bucky explains. “It’s that… it made me realize I can’t, uh, offer you much in this relationship.” He shrugs, going for nonchalant but the color draining from his face betrays how he really feels. “At least not for now… maybe, maybe not ever.”

At last, Steve finds his voice.

“That doesn’t bother me at all, Buck. You could tell me I’m no longer allowed to touch you ever again and it wouldn’t change a single thing about the way I feel. I don’t love you for what you can or cannot give me. I love you cos you’re woven inside of me like tapestry, Bucky. You’re part of me.” A wayward tear slips out of the corner of Bucky's eyes, it runs down his cheeks, disappearing under his chin. “I don’t need touch to feel you.”

Then, Bucky extends his hand, the metal one, and Steve doesn’t waste any time at all to reach for it and lock their fingers together.

“This thing was made to hurt people,” Bucky tells him, before giving Steve’s hand a light squeeze. “I like that it can go beyond that now. It doesn’t really feel anything, but I can use it to hold you. I can still hold you. Doesn’t matter what happened before,” he says, with a slight shake of his head. “I won.”

Steve smiles at him. He is right. Anyone that has ever laid a hand on him has long been dead now, one way or another. Even if Bucky has never gotten his revenge personally from some of these people, time took care of them for him. He has outlived them all. He won.

“Can I… can I hug you, Buck?”

It takes a moment, and Steve almost regrets asking, but then Bucky nods and uses the hand he is holding to pull Steve towards him. He drops Steve’s hand when he can safely nest himself under Steve’s chin. Steve keeps his arms loose around his shoulders.

“You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met,” he confesses against Bucky’s hair, and it’s promptly answered with a snort.

“It certainly don’t feel that way from here.”

“You are, though,” Steve insists. “You’re resilient, Buck. You’ve bounced back from everything life threw at you, not everybody can do that. I certainly can’t.”

Bucky tsks, looking up so that Steve can watch him roll his eyes. “Now you’re just spilling out bullshit. You’re not a quitter, Steve.”

“Maybe not,” Steve concedes. “But I’m not flexible. I break easier than I bend.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Bucky didn’t see Steve right after he fell, he would have a different opinion if he had. But Steve chooses to let it go for now, not willing to open that particular box today, not when they are already dealing with such heavy stuff. 

He is brought back to the moment by Bucky sighing heavily against his chest.

“What’s that?”

“You’re a great guy, Steve. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Steve scoffs. 

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I’m just saying. Whenever… if this ever becomes…” he stumbles over his words, but Steve has an inkling as to where this is going, “not enough for you, you can--”

Steve pulls away then, when it becomes clear what Bucky’s trying to say, so he can properly look at him. “Don’t even finish that sentence,” he demands all amusement gone from his voice. “I’m serious, Buck. Just don’t.”

“You don’t have to deprive yourself on my account. I don’t want that.”

“Can I tell you what  _ I _ want?” Bucky nods. “I want you in my life, and I want to be part of yours too. That’s it, plain and simple. Sickness and health, Barnes. And if I have to marry you to prove that, I will.” Bucky gapes at him for a second, then two, long enough for Steve to actually register what he has just said. “God, I’m not saying that you have to. I’m not… I’d never  _ force _ you to,” he cringes at his poor choice of words. “I mean, I’d never make you marry me if you don’t--”

“Steve,” Bucky says, putting him out of his misery. “I understand.” Steve’s shoulders actually sag with relief. Not that he wouldn’t marry Bucky in a heartbeat. Steve would’ve done that in the forties if Bucky had even hinted at it, nevermind it was illegal back then. But the idea that Bucky could interpret this as Steve forcing his hand, is just too appalling, especially now. Bucky understands him though. He always did.

And now he is gazing at Steve with the sweetest look on his face with a slight blush on his cheeks. Steve’s heart melts a little. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that now,” Bucky explains. “But one day?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d love to,” Bucky nods.

Then he leans forward and plants a quick kiss on Steve’s forehead. And it’s like a benediction. Steve feels unburdened for the seconds Bucky’s warm lips touch his skin. He closes his eyes and lets it wash over him like a blessing, a good omen.

When he opens them he finds Bucky looking at him, his metal hand still holding Steve’s face, his mouth slightly open. While Bucky watches him, Steve takes him all in. The long hair framing his face, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, which he only gets in the summer, the shadows under his eyes from so many things more than just lack of sleep, the tear tracks on his cheeks. Bucky is unique and beautiful, and so much more than what anyone--the army, Hydra, Steve himself--has tried to make him. He is his own person. 

And Steve loves every part of him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, not to disturb the atmosphere around them. “You too tired?” Bucky sniffs as he shakes his head. “Wanna go to the roof and watch the sunrise?”

Bucky glances back at the still dark sky behind them.

“I think that’s still a couple of hours away.”

“So?” Steve shrugs.

Bucky simply snorts in response. Worn to the bone by Steve antics by now. Then he sighs, picking up his blanket and fixing it around his shoulders again before standing up.

“Alright, Rogers. Get me some coffee and we can stand on the roof like a couple of idiots until the sun comes.”

“Right away, sir,” Steve answers as he gets up.

He salutes him and Bucky throws a pillow on his face. Steve catches it and hugs it against his chest, looking at Bucky with what he is sure can only be described as fondness. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Forget the coffee,” Bucky says, taking hold of Steve’s hand again. “Let’s go.” 

Sometimes the apartment overwhelms Bucky, he’s said it before. There were times, in the beginning, when it used to feel like the walls were closing in around him and he had to leave, spend the night outside so he could breathe. That’s not the case now, Bucky is not running away. He is not leaving Steve. He wants to share the night with him, because, even though it’s dark and scary, they both know the sun will always come back.

“Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments give me life.


End file.
